


More Than You Are

by whatchamajig



Series: Half a Sorrow [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Learning Disabilities, M/M, McCree has dyscalculia, Minor Original Character(s), you cannot take this from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatchamajig/pseuds/whatchamajig
Summary: A partner is someone who makes you more than you are, simply by being by your side. ~Albert Kim
Jesse struggles and Reyes is helpful in his own way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for mcreyes week!
> 
> this is going to be part of a series for the week
> 
> find me at whatchamajig.tumblr.com

The mission is of utmost importance, Morrison repeats for the fifth time as he continues his brief over the headset. Jesse tunes him out with an efficiency that comes from years of being yelled at by a gang boss followed by a couple of months of Reyes’ yelling. Across from him Howell works to catch his attention and when he does he starts mouthing the words being spoken while making faces. Jesse doesn’t remember the name of the person sitting next to him but they laugh with Jesse, turning attention to them. Soon the entire carrier is laughing until, like automations having a switch flipped, they snap their jaws shut when Reyes peers around the corner to glare at all of them. Some of the bolder members wave at him before going back to their holovid games or cleaning their guns.

Jesse stares after the Commander as he turns his seat back around to direct the pilot to the drop off point. Normally Reyes would be back here with the rest of them, trying not to look invested in whatever his men were doing while giving jokes of his own or mocking Morrison himself. This time, however, Reyes has spent the entire flight in the cockpit or the command bay going over mission detail after mission detail. It’s important, Morrison hisses; apparently so important that no one’s been told details, at least not Howell and certainly not Jesse, and it’s got Reyes stalking through the helicarrier and lashing out at every small detail. 

Jesse’s only been with Blackwatch officially for a month now, unofficially for a year, and it’s rare to see Reyes like this. His men are the best of the best, Reyes would insist when asked, they got the job done and didn’t need to be asked twice. The agents on the field and off the field were two different people and the misconception that Blackwatch was incompetent probably came from the time Swann walked naked to the Alaska base. Yet listening to Morrison drone on and on it wouldn’t be hard to come to the idea that Blackwatch never had an idea what it was doing. It had driven Reyes up a wall and while he was trying his best not to lash out at his men he wasn’t able to hold everything back. 

They all fall silent and still when Reyes finally stands and comes back to the loading area. He’s armed to the teeth like the rest of them but there’s something in the way he carries himself that gives the idea that even without the guns and gear he could take on all six agents on board and hardly break a sweat. He looks them up and down and it’s subtle but he returns the smile that Jesse sends his way, corners of his lips turning up only slightly.

“Someone want to tell me what we’re doing today?” Reyes demands of them. He grabs onto one of the overhead bars to steady himself when they hit turbulence.

“It’s important, I know that damn much,” Howell states and they all laugh.

“Shut the hell up, Howell,” Reyes’ voice is hard but the roll of his eyes confirms that he hates Morrison’s voice just as much as the rest of them at the moment. He waits for the laughter to die down before he speaks, pulling out his own holovid and holding it so the 3D imaging can display a map of the terrain below. It changes as they keep moving and only stops when Reyes makes it zoom out so that they have decent view of the area. 

“We’re dropping into a hot area. There will likely be hostiles and they will likely be armed to the teeth. The Strike Commander was gracious enough to give us permission to engage if need be.” Sarcasm drips from his voice. He pulls up a target profile of a woman dressed to the nines and various news reports in a language that Jesse can’t understand but he can infer that they don’t have anything good to say about the woman. The news never does.

“Test time!” They all groan. “We’re two thousand feet up, will be dropping from a plane going a little over 450 knots, and I’d say we all weigh well over a hundred pounds. Shut up, Breese, that includes you. Someone tell me when we should jump and how close we should be to our rendezvous.”

No one answers. They all busy themselves with their holovids and duck their heads, hoping Reyes will overlook them. Jesse follows suit and brings up an excerpt from a mission summary of a battle during the Crisis.

“McCree!” Reyes snaps without turning to look at him. Jesse flinches around him and tries to ignore the feeling of betrayal that settles in him as everyone else around him sighs in relief that they weren’t picked. He’d be among them if Reyes hasn’t picked him. He keeps his head down in hopes that Reyes will maybe, just maybe, decide to go for a more defiant target.

“Answer, McCree. Now!”

“I don’t know, _jefe_.” Jesse mumbles. He can feel Reyes heavy gaze on the top of his skull. The mission statement suddenly feels a million miles away and Jesse chases after the words in desperation.

“Well, do the math. What have you got?”

“Don’t have anything. Don’t know the answer.”

“What?” Reyes’ steps sound like thunder as he makes his way over to stand in front of Jesse. Snatching Jesse’s holovid from his hands he moves the report to a side window and glares down at him. Jesse tries to meet his stare but after a few moments he has to drop his gaze down to the commander’s boots.

“I don’t… I’m not good with math, _jefe_ , thought we went over this.” They had, actually. Sitting in the interrogation room Reyes had poured over his file again and again, saying he was taking note of the fact that Jesse dropped out after middle school and promising to put him through basic classes. He had followed through, sure, but that didn’t mean Jesse understood it any better. The numbers didn’t work when he tried to think it out, he couldn’t line them up in his head and figure out the answer that was wanted.

“We’re paying for classes, McCree,” Reyes snarls. Jesse feels his face heat up and he pulls his hat off his head to play with the edges, anything to keep himself grounded in the conversation. “What the hell are you doing with my time?”

“Oh, come on, Reyes,” Tripp hollers down line, “Math’s fucking hard, okay?” 

Reyes rounds at once and Jesse says a silent prayer to Tripp’s gods that they’re willing to divert Reyes attention to themselves. Said man throws Jesse’s holovid back to him before stomping down the line to yell at Tripp. Once he’s sure Reyes is far enough he reopens the mission details and throws himself back in, ignoring the way that Howell leans forward to rest a comforting hand on his leg.

\--------  
The mission had gone off without a hitch. They had dropped in and taken the hostiles by surprise, cutting through their defenses and securing their target within two hours. Not a new record but a good enough reason for Reyes to give the rest of them the night off. Howell was the only major injury, a hostile taking his feet out from under him and using his own gun as a bat to try and beat his face in. 

Jesse had decided to hold himself up in the mess hall, taking advantage of the free food and the fact that it was late to use it to study. He’s got the GED prep book in front of him, his hat and a cup of coffee beside it, and he’s not paying attention so much as flipping through the pages and writing down numbers at random as if it will help him. The numbers aren’t making sense in his head and writing them down isn’t doing anything but making a hectic, out of order number line. He tries, he does, but numbers having never clicked for him.

At some point he’s started to doze off, head dropping to rest against the book. He drifts in and out of a dream of being back in Deadlock, riding backseat on Mikey’s motorcycle as they tear through town. They make it to the end before the bike flips and Jesse flies through the air. He slides along the ground until he’s left staring up at the ground, blinking rapidly when numbers show up where stars should be. Reyes face shows up in the stars and he sneers down at him. The face disappears with a bang and Jesse jerks up, not quite standing up but poised to run if needed.

Reyes is on the other side of the table, staring down at Jesse with something in his eyes that Jesse can’t quite peg. He grabs Jesse’s book and pulls it closer and can read upside down it seems as he arches a brow and then grabs the paper. 

“We’re paying for these classes, McCree, “ Reyes says again. Throwing the paper back down he straightens to stare down his nose at Jesse, crossing his arms. Jesse fidgets and smiles nervously before turning to focus on his coffee cup. “It’s a lot of money and I’ve already got Morrison up my ass about spending money on an ‘unredeemable criminal’.”

Jesse’s stomach drops at that and he starts praying that the floor will swallow him up. 

“I know,” He says, “It’s not like I’m not grateful or anything like that, I just don’t get it.”

Reyes stares at him for a long moment, one brow raised high enough that if the mood were different Jesse would make a joke about it disappearing into his beanie. He gestures for Jesse to continue.

“I know… I could have told you the distance from the drop point if I had been able to see how high up we were and could feel the wind but trying to do it by just math alone is… It’s hard, jefe; if I try to do it in my head the numbers don’t show up and if I write it down they start getting mixed up because they move around on me.”

Reyes continues to look at him silently before finally he moves. Jesse watches his walk of the mess hall and the bottom of his stomach feel as if it’s dropped out. He pulls the book back to him, closing it and dropping his hat ontop of it. He can see it now: Reyes is no doubt walking to Morrison’s office to get paperwork needed to discharge Jesse. If he’s lucky Reyes will just let him loose in the world and he can find a way to live that doesn’t put him back on Overwatch’s radar. If not then maybe Reyes will give him a month or two to bulk up before he sends him to prison. As he plays through the possible scenarios Jesse reasons that he’d have no right to protest when Reyes comes back with the paperwork: the classes and Jesse himself are no doubt costing Blackwatch a lot of money and if he’s not going to have anything to show at the end then there’s no reason to keep investing money.

He hears Reyes’ return before he sees the man. He doesn’t look up from the book and inhales shakily as he prepares for the worse. Reyes drops into the chair beside him and pushes the GED book away, placing another book in front of him. Living with Dyscalculia the title reads; it’s not a thick book, big enough that he could probably read it all within a few days but small enough that he’s not intimidated by it. Reyes grabs his pen and a couple of pieces of paper, placing them in front of Jesse, who turns to look at Reyes.

“Is Dyscalculia a type of prison?” Jesse asks quietly. Reyes jerks and Jesse can see a flash of hurt and confusion in his eyes before it’s gone, replaced by determination and anger. Ducking his head Jesse waits for the yelling and although Reyes has never struck him outside sparring or a few corrective head smacks on the field that didn’t mean it wasn’t too late to start. 

“No, it’s not a prison. Look at me, McCree,” A sigh leaves Reyes when Jesse doesn’t turn his head and Jesse jerks more violently than intended when broad hands touch his head. Reyes removes his hands immediately, instead bending down to make sure he’s in Jesse’s line of vision, even if the younger man won’t look at him. “Jesse, I’m not going to hit you. Look at me.”

Jesse listens now and when he looks at Reyes he can see the way the other man searches his face for an answer.

“You’re not going to prison, Jesse, not for something you can’t control. Dyscalculia is basically dyslexia with numbers. Haisi has dyslexia, yeah?” Jesse nods because, yeah, she does and she often needs Howell or Reyes to read mission briefings for her. “Have we gotten rid of her?”

Reyes nods proudly when Jesse shakes his head and he opens the book before handing Jesse a pen and one of his own. He writes down numbers, one through ten Jesse knows by principle alone but as he stares at them they start to bleed into one another until one becomes four, then six, then nine. Looking away he frowns when Reyes places a hand on his chin and makes him look again.

“My _tío_ Asier had it and so did my mother, who gave it to my sister. It’s not an easy thing to work through but it’s possible. Have you told your instructors?” Reyes visible radiates annoyance when Jesse shakes his head. “You should, Jesse. No one’s going to get angry because you need help.” 

Reyes gets up suddenly and disappears into the kitchen and when he comes back he has an entire pot of coffee that he sets down in between them. He drinks straight from pot before filling up Jesse’s cup. He taps the paper and then the first equation in the book and then writes it down too. He’s going to do this with him, Jesse realizes as he picks up the pen and starts in on it.

They spend the entire night at the table, doing and redoing equations until Jesse is able to do them on his own. They only stop when Jesse starts to fall asleep mid writing and Reyes is confident that Jesse is no longer having trouble with the few equations they’ve done. As they pack up Reyes reaches back and grabs Jesse’s arm before he can disappear.

“You’re not going anywhere, Jesse,” He says firmly, “It has nothing to do with you being an investment or anything like that. You’re a good person and you don’t deserve prison because you made a few mistakes to get where you are now, and I’m certainly not going to send you away because you’re wired different than me.”

Jesse’s smile is just this side of shy and he turns to look away from Reyes, nodding minutely. Reyes doesn’t let him leave until Jesse’s saddled with both books and the promise that he’ll work on the problems there both in and out of the classroom. Jesse agrees and he agrees again when Reyes tells him that Jesse can come to him at any time if he has problems because dammit, McCree, you were told my office is never closed to an issue when I brought you in. 

As Reyes leaves Jesse watches him, clutching the books close to his chest; an easy smile rests on his fact and stays there as he makes his way back to his room and falls into a sleep that’s filled with dreams of broad hands and beanies.

**Author's Note:**

> i projected myself on jesse here; while i don't have trouble reading numbers i'm bad at mental math and can't do math when give a formula, only when on the field (my physics teacher had a ball with me).


End file.
